


Clutch

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, Left 4 Dead
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something gripped his foot, tripping him. He slammed face first into the concrete, but didn't seem to care, instead choosing to try and claw at it, struggling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clutch

**Author's Note:**

> Character death is mentioned, but not...the center I guess??
> 
> And Felt 4 Dead is not something I came up with. It's something http://greentorsos.tumblr.com plays with her friends. They pretend to be Felt and play Left 4 Dead. I think that concept is absolutely fantastic and figured I'd try writing something.

The fallen city was an eyesore, mindless carapaces seeming to stare off into space. No one connected anything until the biting started to happen, deranged and hostile carapaces looking as if they had been starving.

For Die, it only made him panic more. Hat amazingly staying on his head, the lanky Felt member ran, panting and chanting a panicked "no no no _no nO NO **NO NO!**_

He was quite a sight, his coat in tatters and his eyes seeming to bug out more than usual. He had a rather useless looking fry pan, slamming it onto a zombie that was in his path. The head flew off along with the pan, Die left with the handle.

Something gripped his foot, tripping him. He slammed face first into the concrete, but didn't seem to care, instead choosing to try and claw at it, struggling.

"Damn it, Die!"

A loud bang was heard, Die looking behind him in time to see Crowbar slam his weapon down upon the Smoker's tongue. A hack was heard, followed by a series of sickly coughs. Sure more were coming, Die clung to Crowbar, who barely managed to get him up.

"Stop draggin' behind!" He glared, but still had Die's wrist, gripping it as he started to move.

"Itchy shut the door on me!"

"Then open it!"

"I'm sorry, I was being hunted down by zombies!"

A rock flew by, flying past both their heads. Both men flinched as a loud roar was heard. It was quickly followed by a familiar minigun. Stitch soon appeared, huffing and puffing as he clutched a fire axe. "Quit ya god damn lover's quarrel and hurry ya asses up. Quarters ain't gonna stall that beast for long."

Crowbar gave a small glare, but Die could see the slight panic. Die tried to see over Stitch, wondering if he could see the tall figure of Quarters. But Crowbar nudged him, forcing him to quickly start moving again.

The building was in sight, joy shooting through Die. He bolted to the door, Crowbar and Stitch not far behind.

Clutching the handle Die didn't realize he still had, he panted, gasping and gulping for breath. 

"Quarters is not going to be able to take that thing on alone." Crowbar was leaning against the wall, trying to hide his exhaustion. His crowbar was dripping with blood, joining many other stains on the carpet. "We gotta go back."

"And do _what_? Go an' die!?"

Itchy, still able to run, had stared at Crowbar. His shirt was ruined, large scars over his shoulders and chest from when he wondered too far.

Before a debate, or more likely a fight, could break out, Stitch slammed the door shut, quickly heading to a shelf. "Help me, damn it!"

"Quarters-"

"Is most likely fuckin' dead! We can have a memorial when we survive this shit!"

Itchy was already pushing the shelf with Stitch, barely able to get it over on time before a loud bang rang out, dust falling from the room's ceiling. A ring of "NO" left Die, clinging to the wall. Crowbar glanced at him before he turned to the ruined stairs. "We have to go up."

No discussion was said, Die quickly racing to climb over the debris. He peeked over, reaching over to help Crowbar, who in turn waited for Itchy and Stitch.

A hand shot through the bookshelf as they started up the destroyed stairs. Stitch managed to push some of the loose rubble, hopefully able to stop the horde. The continued to climb, not stopping until they reached the roof.

Itchy was out first, panting. For once, he looked tired. He didn't even have his signature smirk. He walked to the edge, peeking down.

A sigh of relief left him. "They got bored."

As Itchy had said, the zombies had died down, the Tank no where in sight. Now the zombies simply walked the streets.

Die held himself, trying to calm his heart. It wanted to be ripped from his chest, ringing in his ears.

The four of them stayed on the roof, trying to calm down. Itchy, for once, said nothing, seeming to glare down at the zombies below.

Maybe he was thinking about how Doze died. The first one to go thanks to a Boomer. Die remembered the horrid smells. The screams.

The horrible screams.

Someone touched his shoulder, causing him to flinch. He quickly calmed when he realized it was Crowbar.

"Sorry." He really did look apologetic, his crowbar loose in his hands. He was tired, like all of them. "For...earlier, too...just, fuck, Die. We're only four."

Die clutched the handle, eyes downcast. Trace and the horde. And Cans and the tank. And Eggs and the witch.

"Die."

The witch. Glowing wild eyes and claws and red eyes.

"Die."

_Red eyes. Red eyes. **Red eyes.**_

"Die!"

His eyes shot up from the ground. Crowbar was gripping his shoulders, staring. An apologetic smile crossed his features. "You miss your doll."

It was a statement. Die glanced down at the handle he clutched, staring as his knuckles whitened. His gloves were long gone, most likely in the stomach of a dead zombie.

He loosened his hands, simply saying, "yes."

Crowbar's eyes lingered on Die's hands. He rubbed his shoulders before leaving.

"We gotta get in the building next door at least. Sleep for the night."

Itchy, who had still been glaring down, simply turned, ready to follow. Stitch had been sitting, groaning as he had to stand up, a mutter of "too fucking old for this" leaving him.

Luckily, the building was easily accessible. A board was laid between them, and the gap wasn't that far either.

All four made it across easily, opening the roof's door, taking the stairs. Tired, they were more than relieved to see no brain eaters in the room at least. And the door was metal, so they'd clearly hear anything before it came it.

Already, Stitch slumped against the wall, sighing as he sat down. Itchy followed, sitting closer to the door they entered from. Crowbar chose the opposite part of the room, easily letting his hat fall over his face. They were all tired and more or less feeling like shit.

Die, however, was clutching the handle again. Usually, he could sleep against a wall...but he knew walls didn't stop them. And he felt a shiver run up his eyes.

Red eyes, long claws, screeching, blood, _blood_.

His eyes shot open, landing on Crowbar. Silence stretched over, realizing they were all asleep. Except for him.

He bit his lip, gripping the handle harder. He stood alone in the dark, staring at Crowbar.

He moved over, getting on his knees in front of the other. He stared at him, reaching out only to stop himself.

This was repeated several times until he finally patted Crowbar's chest. His head shot up, hat falling off.

His eyes glowed in the dark slightly, blinking once he realized he was staring at Die's own luminescent eyes.

They stared at each other. Die clutched the handle tighter, now able to make a small noise as it squeaked from the pressure.

Crowbar took it easily, setting it away. That caused Die to blurt out, "Can I sleep with you?"

"What?" Die realized how it must have sounded and started grabbing at his hands, "I. I just, not like that, no. But. But I need help sleeping and the walls don't help."

Realization came to Crowbar, shrugging as Die rambled. He brought him closer, Die quickly shutting up as his head touched the other's chest.

He listened to the other's heart beat, even sounding as protective as its owner. Warmth came to Die, an arm around him and his face against a breathing form.

He settled, closing his eyes to hopefully not dream of the red eyes.


End file.
